


the last time you let me drown

by elisela



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Hurt No Comfort, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: He hadn’t expected to feel that way again; and then he hears Eddie whisper slowly, “I kissed someone.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 241





	the last time you let me drown

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot be clear enough about this and if you don't like having a story spoiled I'm sorry, but--Eddie cheats. I swear I won't be offended if you click right back outta here. You can yell at me in the comments if you want. Criticize the shit out of this story and me. That's all fine.

“I’m surprised you called,” Buck says quietly, stealing a glance at Eddie after he turns onto an empty side street.

Slumped down in his seat, head resting on the window, Eddie says nothing. His expression is blank, empty; has been since Buck rolled his Jeep up to the door of the rundown bar in east L.A. 

There’s been strain in their relationship for months now, outside forces that cut into their lifeline to each other, tearing at the edges, fraying what holds them together. Buck’s not sure he could pinpoint where it started anymore, they’ve been broken for so long. Another injury to his leg because of a risky attempt at a save that turned out to be more than he could handle, Eddie transferring stations, Buck’s parents appearing with no warning, Christopher’s decision to spend the summer in El Paso with his grandparents. 

He’d always thought they were stronger than that, that they could stand firm against everything life could throw at them, but he has to admit that he’s started to doubt, lately. 

Still—Eddie had called him, and he takes that knowledge, that Eddie knows he can still rely on Buck to be there when he needs him, and tucks it deep in his heart, holds it close. 

He doesn’t try to talk the rest of the way, just navigates them home, hating the way he questions whether or not he should reach out for Eddie, if he should try to comfort him, if Eddie even wants that. 

Eddie doesn’t let Buck help him out of the car, knocks his hand away when Buck tries to steady him up the walkway. Buck keeps his hands to himself after that, even when Eddie bends over and throws up just off the porch, hovering, not daring to get too close until Eddie’s safely on the couch. It’s not until he presses a glass of water into Eddie’s hands and holds out two Advil that Eddie says anything at all. 

“Don’t.” Eddie’s voice breaks; when he ducks his head, Buck’s chest burns. 

When the tsunami hit and he lost Christopher, time ceased to exist. It dragged out for days, weeks, an eternity spent roaming the streets, struggling through waist deep water, every force in the world pushing against him. He didn’t register the scratches on his face, the debris knocking into him, bruising his already battered body, the cut to his wrist, the blood trickling down his hand. Nothing existed except for Christopher, except the voice in his head telling him to keep going, push it all down, don’t think about it.

He hadn’t expected to feel that way again; and then he hears Eddie whisper slowly, “I kissed someone.”

The world constricts again, down to the feel of the pills in his hands, the oppressive silence of the house, his own ragged breathing.

Push it down.

Don’t think about it.

The pills are heavy in his hand, they anchor him to the spot; he holds them out to Eddie. “Take them,” he says. His voice is odd to his own ears, flat, no inflection. Eddie’s hand hovers palm up, stopping under his, not touching. They haven’t touched in days; haven’t kissed hello and goodbye, haven’t pressed against each other on the couch, haven’t knocked their shoulders together while they walked too close, haven’t slept in the same bed since Christopher waved goodbye from the backseat of his grandparent’s car and they had walked back into the house without saying a word. He tips the pills into Eddie’s waiting hand, watches him swallow them dry. 

Push it down.

“Drink the water,” he says. His body won’t move, he’s talking through a mouthful of cotton. 

“Buck—”

“You’re drunk,” he says. He’s been able to smell the alcohol since Eddie fell into the Jeep; his mind seizes onto that knowledge, lets it relax his body, he’s _drunk_ , it’s the only reason—if Buck listens close enough he can hear how Eddie slurs his words at the ends, takes too long to talk like he has to think about how to form the words in his mouth, he’s _drunk_. 

“I wasn’t.”

Don’t think about it.

There are moments when he know his life would never be the same: watching Maddie walk down the aisle, standing at the gas station in Hershey two weeks before college started with his life packed into his car, the flight confirmation to Los Angeles arriving in his email, the weight of the bomb squad vest on his shoulders and Eddie smiling at him, and this, right here, this moment. 

Seventeen tons of stainless steel hadn’t hurt as much as leaving his heart behind and walking out of the room. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also yell at me on tumblr at [hearteyesforbuck](http://hearteyesforbuck.tumblr.com).


End file.
